At Rest
by Sweets1
Summary: SaiFuu. R & R, please!


_Disclaimer:__ All characters are trademarks of Squaresoft. The writing, however, is copyrighted to –me-._

At Rest

_ _

When he is asleep, he is so peaceful. The mask of arrogance, the shell of cruelty; it all fades away, replaced by the cool exterior of contentment. It is so true, so pure, the **real** Seifer Almasy blazing like the brightest flame.

He sleeps, and I snuggle against his side. Whether he be sopping wet or freezing cold, his warmth is always perfect when I am granted the gift of his touch. So smooth is his skin, like silken waves beneath my fingers. I dare not to touch him more, with my hands, then a small caress across his cheek. I refuse to wake the sleeping knight, as he travels across the terrain that his subconscious has prepared for him.

Maybe, just maybe, I travel with him. Beyond those jade orbs, I am there, allowing him comfort and confidence through the most horrid nightmares. I am the light house in the night, the hand that guides a child through rain.

Words are mumbled, breathed out in the husk voice I am so prone to melt before. They are meaningless, barely there, his lips only moving the slightest bit to release these whispers.

I lower myself above him, tilting my platinum-topped head to hopefully catch one of these words. Who is within his dreams? Do more troubles, more problems, taunt him,even in his sleeping state?

I watch over him, the pale guardian angel, protecting him from the chilling fears and protesting creatures of the night, of reality. I cannot protect him, though, from his dreams. "Fuu," He speaks, his voice pained, his expression tensed into fear, "Fuu? Where are you, Fuu? Come back to me, Fuu. Please? Don't go, Fuu! Where are you?! Fuu? Fuu?! _FUU_?!" At the last call of my name, the affectionate term is more of a frantic wail than of a querying statement. His hands reach out to grab me, strong fingers trying to prove to him that I am here.

I long to grab that hand and tangle my fingers between his, grasping him, telling him that I am here. A tear falls. It tumbles gently down his sloping face, falling into his upturned hand, as if it was put there to catch it. Never, in all the time of being with him, have I seen him cry.

I didn't know that gods cried. Seifer Almasy is a god to me. Almighty, all-powerful, undaunted by the fear that threatens him, along with the dark hand of reality. 

"Why did you leave me, Fuu?"

I feel a tingling against my hand. He has started to sweat veraciously. His forehead and chest are beaded with salted drops. His pleas grow in volume, more urgent, more beckoning:

"Come back, Fujin. Come back to me."

The golden beauty's body has now tensed in an agonizing stretch while twisting in a convulsive manner. I fear for him, now. Breathing comes in ragged gasps, so ragged that his body is racked by the sharpness of each breath inhaled or exhaled. I am all to close to the spectacle for comfort.

"Fuuuuuu…"

The voice is soft, tender, foreshadowing in a way. It begs me to come forward, to grace him with my gentle touch. But when did I become gentle? I am a soldier, a vicious albino. Not some angelic princess like all those other flings. I will never be a fling.

Fingers wrap tightly around mine. I see the white on his knuckles, see the gritting of his teeth, the clenching of his eyes. I lean down, brushing rose lips across his forehead. Mercilessly gentle, like never before, I speak to the sleeping figure: 

"Seifer, I am here."

For a moment, time is suspended. My heart gyrates with fear and hope: fear of rejection, hope of love returned. The slumbering body of the knight begins to relax, uncurling itself from the painful position it once held. Eyelashes begin to flutter, forcing green-gray eyes to focus in the heavy, black-velvet of the night. I am shocked to know that he is awake. I wait for the scolding, for the painful remarks, the bitter spats and insults. Though I wish not to spar, my senses tell me one is imminent. 

Instead, I hear his voice; it is more of a rasp, like the crackling of a flame: "Fuu, stay with me. Do not go. Promise me?"

I can make no immediate response. It is so hard, so hard to accept the shock that I, Fujin Kazeno, am being asked to stay. For what? To protect him from the ire the world prepares, to confide in, or to love?

My voice is hesitant, tentative to the ear. "I…I promise."

I feel arms wrap around me, warm and comforting, pulling me closer. I lower my head to rest it on the small area between his throat and collar bone. Lips brush across my head in a gesture of affection, while fingers fondle with the silver hair that lines my head. "A cloud with silver-lining," He says, before tossing the strand back to its fellows.

And there, we sit, together. As the night drifts onward, so do we. As one, in one dream, holding and protecting each other. At rest, within the comfort of each other's embrace.

~fin~


End file.
